


When I Wake

by naasad



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Execution, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 19:04:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15780204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: The last thoughts of Jean Prouvaire.





	When I Wake

**Author's Note:**

> lol guess what part I'm on? ~~imamessrightnowfuckyouvictor~~

They put a blindfold on him.

Jehan knew what that meant.

They dragged him out to the middle of the street.

It smelled like blood.

The blindfold was wet.

He was grateful they couldn’t see him crying.

He wanted his friends.

“Last words!” they demanded.

Jehan thought of Enjolras.

He needed strength like that now.

What would Enjolras say?

 

* * *

 

“It’s alright,” Enjolras laughed, bandaging his hands before pressing a kiss to his palm.

Jehan huffed. “It still hurts.”

Enjolras hummed as he packed up his kit and swept away the china shards. “The cuts are deep, so they will. They’ll heal in time.”

Jehan stared as he sat next to him on the sofa, searching for a name for this storm inside of him. “I think I love you.”

Enjolras frowned, stroking his shoulder. It was a thoughtful frown, Jehan was grateful for that. Then Enjolras shifted, leaning forward. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Jehan met him halfway, pressing their lips together gently at first, then more fiercely, as if it were their last night on earth.

When they pulled away, they stared in contentment for a long while, then Jehan groaned and leaned against his shoulder. “You are most comfortable.”

Enjolras sifted his fingers through his hair, pressing his cheek to his temple. “Sleep,” he murmured. “It’s been trying for all of us lately. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Jehan smiled softly, eyes already closed. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

He was nearly asleep – nearly missed it – when Enjolras pressed his lips to his forehead. “I love you, Jean Prouvaire.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Vive la France! Long live France! Long live the future!”

 

* * *

 

 

In the wine-shop, Enjolras turned to Javert. “Your friends have just shot you.”

He turned on his heel and left Combeferre to do it. He found himself a quiet corner and sat, contemplating. His marble façade broke, tears pouring down his cheeks. “My love,” he gasped, rocking back and forth, “my love, my greatest love is gone.”

All that remained for him was Patria.

And so, he cleaned his face with his sleeve, stood, and returned to the Barricade, immovable as before.


End file.
